


stormclouds

by desdemona (LydiaOfNarnia)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, HAHAHA PLATONIC HAHAHAHA H A H, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 17:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6088920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaOfNarnia/pseuds/desdemona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a familiar process by now.</p><p>All it takes is a simple phrase, uttered at the end of lunch period, close but not close enough to the end of the school day: "There's a thunderstorm tonight."</p>
            </blockquote>





	stormclouds

**Author's Note:**

> this dumb 2000 word fic is the reason i was up until two in the morning last night so i hope you all enjoy it because i am deceased

It's a familiar process by now.

All it takes is a simple phrase, uttered at the end of lunch period, close but not close enough to the end of the school day: "There's a thunderstorm tonight."

Kei's voice has never been loud, and it doesn't travel; but over the crinkling of his bag of chips, Yamaguchi nods anyway. "Okay," he says, and he knows, of course. He _always_ knows, since he picked up the habit of checking the weather report on the news each morning (and sometimes, on the earliest mornings when Kei's mood is at it's worst, Yamaguchi will deliver the day's weather in his best impression of the newswoman's high pitched chirp, _"All sunshine today!"_ , causing Kei to let out an undignified snort).

That day, Yamaguchi trails after Kei like as usual when they leave school. He doesn't split off at his street, however; he continues, following Kei a few more blocks until they reach his own house. Kei pushes the door open and they both toe off their shoes, Yamaguchi calling out a quick greeting to Tsukishima-san as they enter. As their voices echo through the house Kei's mom appears in the kitchen doorway, dish towel slung over one arm and her sunny hair tied up in a high ponytail. A gin spreads over her face at the sight of both of them, and she gladly ruffles Yamaguchi's messy hair as if he were her third son (which he might as well be, by this point).

"Tadashi! Great to see you! How was school today, boys?"

"It was... really good!" Yamaguchi injects as much enthusiasm as humanly possible into a mundane statement about a mundane day. it's not much, but still far more than most people could manage. "I was tired, and almost fell asleep in math class."

"You should get more sleep at night," Kei's mother scolds lightly as Yamaguchi follows her back into the kitchen, easily falling into a story about something interesting that had happened at volleyball practice today. Kei's eyes follow them through the doorway before he sighs, pulls his headphones away from his ears, and switches his phone off silent.

His mother is a music producer, not a cook; but Yamaguchi has insisted for years that Tsukishima-san's cookies are fantastic. He gladly munches on one and makes light conversation as Kei hangs both their coats in the hallway closet. He dislikes this particular closet, to be honest. Sometimes when he opens the door, he still expects to see Akiteru's bright red rain slicker hanging in the middle of the rack; when he finds it bare, there's always the slightest twinge of disappointment in his gut. Today is no different, and he can't help but frown just a bit deeper. Still, he pushes it away doggedly and goes to slam the door shut. Yamaguchi's phone chooses that moment to buzz in his coat pocket. It's probably his mother, responding to his text about spending the night at Kei's. He makes sure to grab the phone, because he knows his friend will be looking for it later, and Yamaguchi always goes a bit manic when he can't find his phone.

"There's a thunderstorm tonight," Yamaguchi remarks offhandedly as Kei steps into the kitchen. Tsukishima-san just hums, lifts her head, and asks Yamaguchi what he wants for dinner.

Yamaguchi licks his lips, pink tongue running briefly over chapped skin; Kei's eyes are caught. His friend's mouth splits into a grin as he says something in reply that Kei doesn't hear, and he feels his heart pound a bit faster in his chest.

He turns away, then, _tch_ ing under his breath. Irritating.

"Yamaguchi and I are going upstairs now," he announces to his mother, and she hums again in apparent agreement as he hears Yamaguchi scramble up from his seat to follow.

Some days, Kei will admit, his imagination does get the better of him. He imagines what kissing Yamaguchi would be like -- maybe, even doing a bit more. His imagination is lackluster at best, so he never goes into much detail in his fantasies; but they are enough. Maybe it's shameful (it probably is). He's given up by now on pushing the thoughts out of his head; and more than once he's even caught himself wondering if Yamaguchi ever thinks the same things about him. Every so often he catches something, dark gaze lingering for just a bit too long on his lips when he speaks, or a touch that wasn't exactly necessary but oh so needed, and he feels electrocuted. Whenever he spots these little things, he considers for the briefest moment maybe telling Yamaguchi -- and then, thankfully, pushes those sorts of dangerous thoughts out of his head.

It's not that he's afraid of rejection (he's _not,_ dammit). He just isn't presumptuous enough to think that Yamaguchi would be willing to put the friendship they share on the line for something as... juvenile as a crush.

 _Friends._ That's what they are. That's what they always have been.

The storm doesn't hit until after dinner, when they're already up in Kei's room with the light on, rotating through various video games that see various victors. Kei is alarmingly good at Mario Cart; Yamaguchi likes shooting games, and his accuracy is nothing short of scary. The rain is already pounding against the window by the time the last game ends; Kei's controller falls on the the bed as he releases it, and he curls up by Yamaguchi's side on instinct. His friend barely acknowledged this, occupied with scrolling through something on his phone. They don't have a tactile relationship most days, but this is a special circumstance; Kei doesn't even feel embarrassed at being so close, not anymore.

He rests his head on Yamaguchi's thigh, and lets out a gentle sigh. The other boy's body is a warm, solid comfort beneath him.

When he was little and used to find himself frightened of storms in the night, Akiteru's bed was always open to him. This was a simple fact, as uncomplicated and undisputed in his childish mind as the fact that their mother had a beautiful singing voice, or that all three males in the family were almost obscenely grumpy in the mornings. He would creak open the door, not minding the slight sound it made as he padded bare feet across the carpeted floors; and, parting a nest of blankets, would climb in next to his big brother. Akiteru would always hum sleepily for a moment, confused and groggy at the sudden disturbance from his slumber -- until the crash of thunder would catch in his ears. He'd pull Kei to his chest then, clutching his much smaller brother tightly and sometimes whispering to him, sometimes humming some song that he'd heard and enjoyed that day. Strong arms would rock Kei back and forth, and quiet sobs would be muffled against a strong chest. Akiteru never cared if he got tears on his pajama tops. He would sit up with him in the dark, soothing him softly and pressing gentle kisses to the crown of his head until one of two things happened: either Kei fell asleep or the storm passed for the night. Often, with his steady older brother at his side, Kei would be unable to help drifting off. He'd wake the next day, still in his brother's bed, with the covers pulled up to his chin. Sometimes he'd find Akiteru sleeping on the floor; he was kind of a bed-hog, Kei would come to realize eventually, but his brother always insisted he didn't mind at all.

After Akiteru left for college, of course, things changed. Without his brother as his support during the nights when things got difficult, Kei wound up turning to someone else instead.

The first roll of thunder crashes down around them, and Kei instinctively curls into Yamaguchi's side. The burning hiss at the back of his mind about how _embarrassing_ he's acting is drowned out by the evenness of Yamaguchi's breathing; his friend's hand finds his back, and he begins to stroke a gentle, even rhythm up Kei's spine.

Another clap of thunder; Kei's breath is picking up, hitching slightly, and Yamaguchi discards his phone entirely as he wraps both arms around his friend's shoulders. Kei doesn't cry, but he also doesn't hesitate before pressing his face into the warm crook of Yamaguchi's neck. His friend sighs; a hand kneads in between his shoulder blades, forcing Kei's stiff posture to relax. Yamaguchi reaches over and taps something on his phone, and an old English rock song Kei's always been fond of begins to play softly. As the music starts, Yamaguchi begins to talk.

"Did you see Kinoshita-senpai crash into the wall at practice today? He was lucky he didn't get a nosebleed! I was really scared because his head made this awful noise when it hit the wall, but he was fine, apparently. Did you know Tanaka-senpai told me that he once got a concussion from ramming headfirst into a tree? How cool is that? I mean, it was an accident, probably, and I'm not really sure how you don't see a tree in front of you long enough so that you bash your head against it, but if there's ever a cool way to injure yourself I guess that's it. Hey Tsukki, remember that time I fell down that flight of stairs because I was trying to read and walk at the same time? I remember -- you said to me..."

The funny thing about Yamaguchi is that he can talk for hours if he's comfortable enough and no one bothers interrupting him. He doesn't have to talk about anything important; and most of the time he doesn't. Kei isn't sure if he goes on like that with anyone else -- he knows that if there's more than two people in a conversation, Yamaguchi will almost invariably clam up. But when it's just the two of them, Yamaguchi will talk, and Kei has realized over the years that he actually likes hearing what Yamaguchi has to say.

The first thunderstorm they spent together was also one of the first times Yamaguchi had ever been over his house. It was about three or four months into Year Five of elementary school, and Kei hadn't known a storm was coming. He and Yamaguchi were working on homework on his bed when all of a sudden a crash of thunder jolted the room, causing the house to practically shake; the power had gone out, then, and in the brief panic that followed it took Yamaguchi a moment to realize that his friend was crying.

Even at ten years old, Kei despised letting people see him cry. Admittedly, he was probably closer to Yamaguchi than he ever had been with any other friend (he didn't even have a clue how _that_ had happened, only that it somehow _had_ ). Having this other boy in his room witness what was essentially a fear-induced breakdown had, for him, been mortifying.

Reasonably, little Yamaguchi had been baffled and a bit frightened by his friend's reaction. Kei had been waiting -- fully expecting -- for him to laugh, or walk out on him, or do something equally harsh; it was only when he felt the tentative hand on his shoulder, and then the arms that promptly wrapped around him from behind, that it dawned on him.

Yamaguchi was a friend. He wasn't going to leave him.

And -- for the next five years -- he never had. For some reason. He still hasn't quite figured that one out himself, yet, and like hell if he's going to outright _ask_ Yamaguchi why he sticks around when neither of them are under any sort of illusions about the type of person that Kei is.

Another rattle of thunder shakes the room and Kei cringes; but Yamaguchi's chest is strong, his breathing is even, and it is hard not to feel safe. Arms are wrapped around his shoulders, grounding him tightly to earth, and Yamaguchi's heart pounds steady beneath Kei's ear. The beat echoes in time with his breathing, a beat for every inhale; gradually, the heaving of his chest begins to level out, and a sense of calm begins to push the panic aside. Yamaguchi is so calming, so warm; he is a simple sort of person because he is unhesitatingly good, and that might be Kei's absolute favorite thing about him,

Some things don't change. As his breathing levels out and tranquility replaces fear, his head slowly begins to grow cloudy with sleep. He isn't actually sure at one point he drops off into unconsciousness, only that Yamaguchi's voice follows him through his peaceful dreams.

When he opens his eyes again, much later, they are lying side by side and Yamaguchi is snoring gently next to him. At some point, Yamaguchi has removed Kei's glasses; he has to squint to make out the face just next to him. The other boy's lips are parted, just enough that Kei can feel his gentle breaths brushing the top of his head; his arms are still wrapped around his best friend's shoulders, clutching him close even though the storm has long since passed them by. 

Later on, he'd blame it on lack of spacial perception; he's blind as a bat without his glasses, anyway, so the blame for what happens next can hardly fall on his shoulders. But it happens anyway; when Kei tilts his chin up, his mouth inadvertently brushes against Yamaguchi's cheek.

He freezes, eyes going wide as saucers; he can feel the echoes of Yamaguchi's freckles on his lips, burning stardust patterns into pink flesh. The other boy doesn't stir, not even so much as a twitch of an eye; and Kei suddenly has to resist the powerful urge to press his lips to Yamaguchi's own and take in some of those even breaths in for himself.

He doesn't, though. Because of course not. He is not afraid, he is not presumptuous, and he is not stupid.

Friends -- that's what they are. Nothing more. Certainly nothing less. This is the way it has been.

And maybe it's not completely satisfying, but he doesn't suppose many things in life are.


End file.
